‘But ye had your aunt there, didn’t ye?’ Blackie cut in. ‘Ye could live with her.’

Angela took a sip of her tea, her beautiful face serious for a moment. ‘I did, but she was frail by then, and Anthony was truly wise. He was looking to the future. He wanted me to find a nice little house here in Armley so I could be close to my mother and sister, perhaps if we had a family, I mean. And whilst he was on his ship.’

‘And was this the house ye found then?’

Angela smiled. ‘It was indeed, although it did take a long time to find the right one. Months. Still, it did turn out all right, didn’t it?’

‘More than that. I like this design, that I do. Ye see, I am an admirer of the Palladian style in architecture, and of course Georgian as well – that’s my favourite … I like symmetry in buildings.’

‘And mine has symmetry?’

He nodded, unable to speak. Angela had risen and was walking across the floor to him, a lingering smile on her face, her eyes directly on his. She sat down on the sofa and stared up at him. ‘Blackie, I would like … us to become … friends. Can we?’

Finding his voice, he said, a little hoarsely, ‘I want that too. Close friends.’

Drawing nearer to him, she reached out and touched his cheek. ‘Very close,’ she murmured.

He almost flinched as her long, delicate fingers stroked his cheek; he let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. His heart was thudding in his chest.

‘Open your eyes, Blackie,’ she said in a soft voice.

He did so, and looked at her, his dark eyes full of desire and yearning.

She gazed back, stood up in front of him, leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. Instantly, he took hold of her arms and stood, kissing her as passionately as she was kissing him. They clung together, pressing against each other. They continued to embrace and touch and kiss for a long while. Finally they stopped, drew apart slightly and gazed at each other, looking a little shocked.

She spoke first. ‘Can we become very close now? Intimate? Why do we have to wait until we know each other better?’

‘We don’t,’ he said, his voice hoarse, stroking her breast, leaning forward, one arm still around her. ‘Can we find a different room? More private.’

‘We can. My bedroom. An intimate room for us to be intimate.’ She took his hand in hers and drew him up the stairs, across a landing into her bedroom. After closing the door and locking it, she leaned against it and opened her arms to him.

He rushed forward, embraced her, kissed her lips, her cheeks, and her forehead. When he finally stopped, he whispered against her hair, ‘Oh Angela, Angela, let us not waste another moment.’